


Avengers and Avian Animals

by The_Devil_In_The_Details_666



Series: All The Batfam BS [47]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily meets the Avengers, Crossover, F/M, Jason is Jason, M/M, Multi, Multiverse Shenanigans, Not Canon Compliant, Not sure how much more explanation you need on that, Tim Drake Needs a Break, Tim Drake is Nosy, Tim Drake is problematic but we love him, Very very not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:36:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Devil_In_The_Details_666/pseuds/The_Devil_In_The_Details_666
Summary: Standard Avengers/Batfamily crossover fic.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon (referenced), Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: All The Batfam BS [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514906
Comments: 94
Kudos: 639





	1. Chapter 1

These were the kinds of things that made Tim hate being a vigilante, just a little bit. Normal, non-vigilante people didn’t have to deal with this shit, didn’t have to deal with going after a gang of weapons smugglers only to be hit with some sort of yellow beam, black out, and wake up in just his boxers and mask with his staff on a rooftop in the middle of…

Wait a damn second. 

How the fuck did Tim get to New York?

Also, where was the rest of his uniform? Did the smugglers steal it? If so, why leave his mask and staff?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Not to mention the fact that everything was spinning and he was about 97% sure he had, at the very least, a concussion and two, maybe three bullet holes that definitely needed treatment. And, with the way his left arm was throbbing, he was gonna guess probably a fractured ulna or radius. Maybe both. That would be in line with his luck. So, first things first, he needed to get himself some civilian clothes and find a hospital. And maybe a newspaper.

Tim slowly tried to stand, his body screaming out in pain, and immediately collapsed back onto his knees. Yeah, that was definitely more than two bullet holes. Ow. Everything hurt and Tim closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths and forcing himself to ignore the pain. He could handle it. If he could handle having his throat slit, his spleen impaled and removed, and his nose broken with a brick, he could handle this shit. No big deal. 

Soft, nearly silent footsteps reached TIm’s ears, along with the sound of a gun being drawn, and Tim forced his eyes open, grabbing his staff with his right hand and using it to haul himself to his feet. The pain nearly whited out his vision, but he forced it back, wobbling on his feet and scowling at the redhead standing about 10 feet away from him. She held a silver pistol, smaller than the .45 that Jason used, but her hands were nearly as steady as Jason’s as she pointed it at him, ordering, “Sir, you’re hurt. Set the staff down and I can get you medical help.”

Tim scowled and straightened up despite the pain, growling, “I’m fine.”

His vision was going black around the edges, the bloodloss hitting him like a brick to the face, but he ignored it, clutching his staff tighter as the woman approached. She moved the gun so it wasn’t pointed at him, holding her hands up where he could see them, and let the magazine slide out of the gun, clattering to the rooftop. Tim, however, wasn’t dumb enough to let that fool him and, as soon as she was close enough, he lashed out with his staff, catching her across the face. The movement cost him his already precarious balance, however, and he found himself toppling over, everything spinning before going black.


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha was just getting ready to head to bed when FRIDAY announced, “There is someone on the roof.”

Natasha looked at Clint, then at Tony, then stood and headed for the elevator. Clint and Tony followed close behind and they rode in silence before arriving on the top floor. They quickly made their way up the roof-access stairs and Natasha cracked the door open, peering out in time to see a boy, maybe 19, collapse onto his knees, clutching his bleeding stomach. He was dressed in boxers and a black domino mask, with a black metal bo staff on the rooftop beside him, and even from where she was, Natasha could tell that he had more scars than all of the Avengers combined. She gave a few hand signals to Tony and Clint, telling them to stay put, then opened the door all the way and stepped out onto the roof, drawing one of her guns in case the teenager ended up being hostile. To her surprise, the teen managed to push himself to his feet, leaning on his staff and swaying like he was about to fall even as he scowled at her. Natasha pointed her gun at him on instinct, ordering, “Sir, you’re hurt. Set the staff down and I can get you medical help.”

The boy’s scowl deepened and he straightened up as though that would hide his injuries, growling back, “I’m fine.”

His swaying was enough to tell Natasha that he was definitely not fine and she slowly approached, bringing her hands up and releasing the magazine from her gun. It clattered to the ground and the boy’s scowl deepened, his body tensing like he was going to attack. Natasha doubted he could so much as stand without leaning on his staff, a thought that was proven correct as she moved into his range and he lashed out with the staff, catching her with a glancing blow across her cheek. The attack sent the boy tumbling back to the rooftop, however, and he fell still, his staff slipping out of his slackened grip. Natasha ducked to grab her magazine from the rooftop, sliding it back into her gun as Tony and Clint burst onto the rooftop, then made her way to where the boy was laying. He didn’t so much as twitch as she kicked his staff over to where Clint was and Natasha quickly checked his pulse. It was fast and weak and his skin was icy cold, making it clear to Natasha that he was going into hypovolemic shock. After a split second of consideration, she ordered, “Get the door and tell the doctors to prep the operating room.”

Tony relayed the order down to the medical staff and Natasha picked the kid up, carrying him to where Clint was holding the door. The movement seemed to wake the kid up a little and he tried to fight back, but the blood loss meant that he couldn’t do much more than twitch weakly and mumble something that Natasha couldn’t quite catch as they descended to the operating room. As soon as they reached the infirmary, two nurses met them at the door with a rolling hospital bed and an IV cart. Natasha set the kid on the bed, stepping away to allow the nurses to hook him up to blood and medicine bags, then followed them to the operating room. Tony ushered her and Clint into an observation room and they watched in silence as the doctors removed six bullets from the boy’s abdomen and set his broken arm, wrapping it in a plain white cast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set in the vague nebulous time just after Tim rescued Bruce from being lost in time, when he's kinda morally gray and still in that desperate "do whatever it takes" mindset, but with things like ages and time and such altered.

Tim woke up slowly, his body feeling heavy and sluggish and mostly numb, which meant that he was definitely on the good drugs and a lot of them. He groaned, running a mental check of his body, and wondered why he even bothered speaking if Bruce and Alfred were just going to ignore him when he said he didn’t want to be put on heavy painkillers. He started to lift his hand to his face, but a metal cuff around his wrist stopped him. He slowly pried his eyes open, wondering why he was restrained, then came to an unpleasant realization.

He was not, in fact, in the Cave.

As he stared at the plain white ceiling, his memories came flooding back. The smugglers. The energy beam. Waking up. The redhead. Passing back out. Tim silently cursed himself and tilted his head to examine his restraints, pressing his lips together and breathing through his nose sharply when the motion made his stomach churn. The restraints were plain silver metal, lined with soft padding, and he tugged at the one on his right wrist, testing it. It held and Tim gave another silent curse, then nearly jumped out of his skin when a male voice said, “You’re not going to be able to break them. Those things are strong enough to withstand the Hulk.”

He snapped his head to look at the source of the voice, head swimming with the motion, and found himself staring at a man with brown hair and a goatee, dressed in an oil-stained shirt and jeans. A blonde man was in the chair beside him and something glowed faintly blue under the brunette’s shirt, but Tim ignored it as the brunette man asked, “So, what’s your name kid?”

Tim bit his tongue, returning his gaze to the ceiling. His mask had been removed at some point while he was unconscious and Tim was uncomfortably aware that he was quite possibly one facial scan away from bringing the whole Batfamily down with him. The brunette shifted slightly, making Tim look back at him suspiciously, then sighed, stating, “Listen, kid, I don’t know who you work for, but we can help you. Clearly the people you work for don’t care if you live or die and besides, you’re-”

“Shut up.”

The rasped words took Tim himself by surprise and the brunette raised an eyebrow. Tim clamped his mouth shut, scowling at the men, but the brunette was undeterred, plowing on, “Anyway, as I was saying, you’re like 12. You shouldn’t be getting shot or attacking the Avengers. If you just tell us who you work for, we can help you get out of it.”

Tim ignored him, testing the cuffs again, and scowled at the IV needle in his arm. The blonde man began rambling in the background, talking about protecting Tim and getting rid of the people who hurt him, and Tim tuned him out, focusing on escape. His first order of business was, of course, removing the IV so his head would clear up some and he could focus. He looked suspiciously at the blonde man, who was apparently so caught up in his own self-righteous babbling that he had turned to stare out the window, and the brunette man, who had pulled his phone out and moved towards the door, fiddling with his phone. Both were distracted enough that Tim was able to dislocate his thumb with ease and slide his hand out of the cuff, then pop his thumb back into place and pull the IV needles free of his arm before either of the men could reach him. The sound of his thumb popping back into place attracted the blonde’s attention, who looked horrified and lunged at Tim in an attempt to stop him. Tim, however, had no plans of stopping and grabbed a scalpel from the small table beside him, holding it to his own throat and growling, “Don’t get any closer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve stared at the kid sitting in the hospital boy, left wrist still handcuffed to the bed railing, with a scalpel held to his own throat. The kid was swaying slightly from the pain medicine still in his system, but his eyes were sharp and determined. Steve shifted his weight, preparing to lunge forward, but the kid pressed the scalpel tighter, the blade digging into his skin slightly, and narrowed his eyes with a hiss of, “Don’t even think about it. Back up.”

Steve froze, then slowly held his hands up and backed away, forcing his voice to stay calm as he ordered, “Put the scalpel down.”

The kid sneered, then flicked his glance to Tony and snapped, “Drop the phone, asshole.”

Steve glanced over at Tony, who very, very slowly bent down to set his phone on the floor and straightened back up, holding his hands up. The kid glanced between them, then ordered, “Give me the keys.”

Steve glanced at Tony who nodded, then, at a snail’s pace, reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of silver keys, holding them up and stepping forward. He held them out, hoping that the kid would lower the scalpel to take them, but the kid just ordered, “Unlock the cuff.”

Steve obeyed and the kid swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and backing towards the hallway door. His eyes darted to Tony and Steve hoped that Tony had managed to get a message out. Then the door opened behind the kid and he whirled around, the scalpel digging into his neck, to face Clint, who appeared taken off guard for a split second before lunging forward. The kid danced backwards, shifting his grip on the scalpel, and snarled, “Don’t touch me.”

Steve took the opportunity to move forward, grabbing the kid’s right wrist and pressing on a pressure point to make the kid drop the scalpel. The kid dropped it, then, to his surprise, caught it with his left hand and pressed it to Steve’s throat, his right hand slipping out of Steve’s grip to wrap around and pinch a nerve in the back of Steve’s neck that made Steve’s body go limp. In a heartbeat, the kid shifted and spun, placing Steve between him and Clint and Tony, right hand in Steve’s hair to pull his head back and his left holding the scalpel over Steve’s carotid. Clint and Tony went stock-still and the kid growled, “You, brunette, come here.”

Tony slowly stepped forward, gaze steely, and the kid nodded to the open cuff on the bed, ordering, “Right wrist. Close it.”

Tony obediently locked his left wrist into the cuff and the kid nodded released Steve’s hair, pulling the scalpel away from his throat. Clint watched him warily and Steve tried to stand, but his body was completely numb and unresponsive. The kid stepped forward, shoving Steve in a way that made him topple onto his side, then ducked down to grab the keys and studied Clint for a moment before stating, “You won’t stop me from leaving.”

Clint looked surprised and the kid shifted slightly, then tossed the keys at Clint, repeating, “You won’t stop me.”

Clint caught the keys and, to Steve’s shock, answered, “I won’t.”

Then, from behind them, Natasha stated coolly, “I will.”

The kid’s knees sagged under him and Clint darted forward to catch him, allowing Steve to catch sight of the small dart in the kid’s shoulder. The scalpel clattered to the floor and Clint tossed the keys to Tony, who freed his wrist and helped Clint get the kid back onto the bed. Silence reigned and Steve stood as he slowly regained feeling in his body, asking the question everyone was thinking.

“Who the Hell is this kid?”


	4. Chapter 4

Tony was frustrated beyond belief. He had run scans of the kid’s face, fingerprints, and DNA, to no avail. All he got was the same result, Timothy Drake, a 40-something businessman in New Jersey whose most notable trait was that he was openly bisexual and married to a man. And while the kid did bear an almost eerie resemblance to Drake, the facts of the matter were that the kid was 16 at the oldest and clearly almost as highly trained as Natasha. The kid had a myriad of scars across his skin, crisscrossed every visible inch of the kid, his body a tapestry of scarred-over cuts, burns, and bullet holes. Tony could tell that a couple were surgery scars, clean, precise incisions on the upper left and lower right sides of the kid’s abdomen. But the rest were the jagged, rough-healed scars that Tony himself was covered in, the scars of someone who had spent years fighting. A few made Tony feel nauseous when he looked at them, the angry, raised scars of torture or abuse, and one scar in particular caught Tony’s attention, a curved scar on the kid’s throat, like he’d had his throat slit. Tony’s throat closed up at the scars and he made a silent promise that he would find out who had done that to the kid and make them pay. First though, he needed to find out just who the kid was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason was panicking. Tim had been supposed to meet him for a date, but he had been a no show and, after hunting down and interrogating Dick, he had learned that Tim had been M.I.A. for almost 13 hours, having dropped off the map during a weapons smuggling bust. Dick was looking into it, but, with Bruce off-world, Cass in Hong Kong, and Steph benched, he was stretched thin. And so, it was up to Jason, who got Tinm’s last known location off Babs and headed out to knock some heads and break some kneecaps. It was a burned-out warehouse on the corner of Wilson and 7th and Jason wasted no time making his way to the roof, peering into the building through the dingy skylights and relaying what he saw to Babs. There were a half-dozen thugs, armed with alien tech, and Jason’s breath caught when he saw the Red Robin suit hanging from one of the rafters, as though Tim had been standing on the rafter and suddenly vanished from within the suit. As he reported the information back to Babs, he could hear her typing and flinched when she gave a sharp gasp. He swallowed back the bile in his throat, then asked, “What’s up, O?”

Barbara took a deep breath, then answered, “Good news and bad news. Good news is, he’s probably not dead. Bad news is, he’s in a different universe. Those guns they’re using are alien tech, used to send people into another universe. The guns can’t take spandex, though, which is probably why the suit stayed here. And since Little Red’s tracker was in his suit, it didn’t go with him.”

Jason bit his lip, then asked, “Any idea how to get him back?”

“Best guess? Send yourself over with one of the guns and get him. But that’s-”

“On it.”

Jason cut his comm unit before Barbara could detail exactly how bad of an idea that was, then rolled his shoulders and kicked in the glass of the skylight, descending into the warehouse like an angel from Hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim woke up locked in a small, glass-walled cell. The brunette and blonde men were standing on the other side of the wall, looking at him suspiciously, and Tim noted a folded stack of fabric on a small table bolted to the floor. The brunette pressed a button, then stated, “There’s a change of clothes for you on the table there.”

Tim picked up the stack of clothes and unfolded them, finding a shirt and pair of sweatpants in gray. After a moment, he shrugged and pulled them on, beginning a stretching routine to bide his time. The brunette frowned at the lack of reaction and asked, “What’s your name?”

Tim ignored him, lowering himself into a split, and the brunette gritted his teeth, then snapped, “Who is Timothy Drake and why does scanning your face bring him up?”

Tim froze, heart rate tripling, then forced himself to keep moving and continue ignoring him. His reaction didn’t go unnoticed, unfortunately, and the brunette pressed, “Is he your handler? Father? Both?”

Tim kept his trap shut, mind whirling at the idea that his facial scan brought up someone old enough to be his father, and realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that he was even deeper shit than he had thought. 

“Fuck the multiverse.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jason jerked awake on a rough roof, one of the multiverse pistols tucked into his jacket, and let out a sigh of relief as he realized that his clothing had come through with him. His head throbbed as he pushed himself to his feet, but not enough for Jason to miss the fact that there was someone else on the roof. It was a man with sandy blonde hair, holding a purple bow with a matching quiver slung over his shoulder. In a heartbeat, the bow was up and an arrow was aimed at Jason’s throat as they guy asked, “Who are you? How did you get here?”

Jason slowly pulled his hands free of his jacket, holding a smoke pellet between his fingers, and answered slowly, “I’m not looking for trouble, man, I’m just here to get someone.”

Arrow-Guy looked doubtful, interrogating, “Who are you here for?”

Jason raised an eyebrow under his mask and scoffed, “Like Hell I’m telling you, pal.”

Then he threw the pellet to the ground and, under the cover of the smoke, darted to the door behind him, shoving it open and slipping in silently. The stairway was relatively dark, not that it meant much with the night-vision lenses in Jason’s mask, and he hauled ass down the stairs, wondering how the hell he was gonna find Tim. 

Then the alarms started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim was busily ignoring the brunette man’s interrogation when the blaring of klaxons started. The brunette man swore and tapped his watch, flicking his fingers. A hologram projection of what appeared to be a security feed came up, displaying a familiar red-helmeted man in a battered leather jacket sprinting down a flight of stairs. Tim couldn’t help his gasp, making the brunette and blonde men look at him sharply. TIm was too busy wondering what the hell Jason was doing there to care about them, though, and he hobbled over to the glass wall, pressing himself against it to get a better view of the projection. The blonde raised an eyebrow, then asked, “Someone you know?”

TIm ignored him and, as a redheaded woman stepped into the footage from behind Jason and pulled out a small pistol, Tim couldn’t help but hiss, “Watch your back, you fucking idiot!”

The redhead fired her pistol, the glint of metal burrowing into Jason’s neck just between his helmet and jacket, and Tim felt like the world had just dropped out from under him when Jason stopped moving and collapsed to his knees, one hand reaching up to touch where he had been shot before falling back down as Jason toppled forward. The brunette dismissed the projection and Tim’s knees gave out under him, sending him crashing to the floor as he struggled to breathe, burying his hands in his hair and pulling in a desperate bid to snap himself out of this nightmare scenario. He vaguely heard the two men talking, but his brain just kept replaying the moment Jason dropped, a voice that sounded uncomfortably like Bruce whispering that it was his fault, Jason was dead because of him, he was the reason that Jason had been shot. 

There were hands on him. They were grabbing his hands, pulling them away from his head, pinning them down. A strong hand pinned his right leg down, holding it still, and he felt the pinch of a needle in the outside of his thigh, like an EpiPen. A wave of chemical calm swept through him and Tim found his eyes closing, whatever sedatives they had administered dragging them closed. The world spun once, twice, then Tim was unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Timothy Drake was not what most people would call ‘interesting’. He was 48-years old, married for 22 years, with a relatively nice house and two cats named Richard and Damian. He spent most of his day pushing papers at an office in Hoboken, New Jersey, then went home to his literature-professor husband and cats to spend time with them. The most exciting things that had happened to Timothy in the last twenty years was his husband letting him take erotic photos of them together and finding Damian as a kitten on his doorstep. 

Then he came home from work to find Iron Man standing at his kitchen table, looking very unhappy. And Timothy, well, he may have peed himself, just a little, when Tony fucking Stark looked him dead in the eyes and stated, “We need to have a little chat, Mr. Drake.”

Then Timothy was being herded out to a smallish plane and more or less muscled into it, even as he protested that his husband was going to be worried. Iron Man ignored him and the plane rose into the air, orienting towards New York.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason woke up slowly, body heavy and sluggish from whatever sedative he had been dosed with, and realized with a jolt that he had been changed into a pair of gray sweats and a gray t-shirt. He was locked in a small glass cage that reminded him uncomfortably of Arkham’s cells and he scrambled to his feet, adrenaline burning through the drugs in his system as he rammed his shoulder into the glass wall. Predictably, it didn’t break, but it did attract the attention of the bulky blonde man who was standing at a cell across the room. The blonde turned and started towards Jason, his movement revealing a small, familiar body laying on the mattress in the cell. Even without seeing his face, Jason knew that it was Tim. His boyfriend was on his back, dressed in gray sweatpants and a gray t-shirt that was rucked up to reveal Tim’s bandaged stomach. Jason slammed one fist against the glass as the blonde reached him, snarling, “What did you do to him?”

The blonde looked surprised before his expression hardened and he snapped, “What did  _ we  _ do?  _ We  _ didn’t do anything to the kid! What did you people do to him?”

Jason rammed his shoulder against the glass again, the poisonous green haze of the Lazarus Pit falling over his vision at the implication. The glass made a distressed groaning sound and the blonde looked startled, then ordered, “Calm down or we’ll sedate you again.”

Jason slammed himself against the glass a third time, feeling the top edge of it shudder where it connected to the ceiling. The blonde reached for a panel of buttons on the wall and Jason growled, “When I find out who hurt him, I’ll rip them limb from limb and make them eat their own organs.”

That seemed to attract the blonde’s attention, because he turned to look at Jason, hand hovering over a gray button on the panel, and asked, “Wait, you aren’t here to hurt him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, things have been chaotic with the coronavirus panic. Please take care of yourselves and be safe.


	6. Chapter 6

The bulky guy in the cell, who Tony had taken to calling Red Helmet, slammed his shoulder against the glass of his cell again and Steve’s heart rate increased just slightly when he heard the steel bracers holding the glass to the ceiling creak. The guy was clearly strong and Steve fully suspected that he could probably break the bracers and get out given enough time. Steve had no intention of giving him enough time and moved towards the button that would release an aerosolized sedative into the cage when the guy suddenly, almost to himself, snarled, “When I find out who hurt him, I’ll rip them limb from limb and make them eat their own organs.”

His tone was pure protective anger and worry, which surprised Steve. He had assumed that Red Helmet was there to kill the kid or something, but something about his tone had Steve rethinking that idea and he blurted, “Wait, you aren’t here to hurt him?”

The guy looked genuinely offended at the implication and snapped, “No, I’m not here to fucking hurt him! I’m here to drag his dumb ass back home before he pulls a me and gets himself fucking killed!”

Steve studied him, actually studied him, for the first time and realized with a dawning sense of horror that Red Helmet was way younger than he had assumed at first glance, probably not even old enough to drink and certainly not old enough to justify the number of scars Steve had glimpsed while helping Clint get the guy changed. His mind flashed back to one scar in particular, the Y-shaped scar on Red Helmet’s chest that Clint had made a comment about looking like an autopsy incision, and Steve felt a surge of nausea as he processed Red Helmet’s last comment and realized that the scar very well could be from an autopsy. 

His contemplation was interrupted by the sound of Red Helmet body-slamming the glass again and Steve blurted, “Wait. If I bring the kid into your cell, will you calm down and answer some questions for me?”

Red Helmet hesitated, but backed away from the glass and answered, “Yeah. Bring him in here and I’ll be a good little prisoner.”

Steve nodded and, before Red Helmet could do anything else, pressed the button to deploy the sedative. Once Red Helmet was out cold on the floor, Steve dragged him into the kid’s cell, having realized that moving the kid was probably not a good idea and that leaving Red Helmet in the cell he had already started to weaken was probably not a good idea either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason woke up on the cold floor and made a silent promise to break the blonde’s nose for drugging him, then realized with a start that he was not, in fact, alone in his cell. There was a presence on his left side and Jason slowly turned his head to look at who was in the cell without alerting the person that he was awake. As soon as he saw who was beside him, however, he sat bolt upright and reached out to take Tim’s pulse, hands shaking like leaves. Tim’s pulse was strong and steady and Tim made a soft noise in his sleep, then settled again as Jason whispered, “It’s alright, Baby Bird, it’s just me.”

Jason quickly checked Tim over, murmuring soothingly the whole time, and relaxed slightly once he had confirmed that Tim was okay. Then he couldn’t help but sink his fingers into Tim’s long hair, earning another sleepy noise and Tim pressing his head into Jason’s palm like a cat. The blatant trust made Jason’s heart race and he pressed a soft kiss to Tim’s forehead, sighing fondly, “I hope you know that you are in some seriously,  _ seriously  _ deep shit, Baby Bird.”

“Baby Bird? Is that the kid’s codename?”

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin at the blonde’s sudden questions and turned to look at the blonde, answering, “No. No one gets to call him that but me.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow and, eyes darting rapidly between Jason and Tim, asked, “Are you two… together?”

Something in his tone made Jason’s hackles raise and he snapped, “What if we are? You got a problem with that?”

The blonde held his hands up and answered quickly, “No, no, not at all. Just… surprised, is all.”

Jason scowled and Tim shifted again, pulse speeding up as he woke up. Jason stroked his fingers through Tim’s hair, then gave a startled yelp when Tim’s hands shot out to grab him around the throat. Tim jerked up, hissing, “Don’t fucking tou- Jason?!?”

In an instant, Tim’s entire attitude flipped on a dime and he practically crawled into Jason’s lap, his hands moving from Jason’s throat to pat Jason down for injuries. Jason allowed it without question, then gently tugged Tim in for a tight hug as soon as Tim was done, reiterating, “You are in some seriously deep shit, Baby Bird.”

Tim settled his head on Jason’s collarbones and sighed, asking, “Scale of one to ten, how much is he gonna smother me when we get home?”

Jason laughed, pressing another kiss to Tim’s head, and answered, “Big Bird? Definitely a fifteen at minimum.”

Tim groaned dramatically and Jason rolled his eyes, teasing, “Now, Baby Bird, this is exactly why you don’t do things like get your ass yeeted into a different universe.”

Tim mumbled something that Jason couldn’t quite understand, then, upon Jason’s request for a repeat, lifted his head and asked, “Can I just… Not go back? We could totally be heroes here. Plus then Ra’s wouldn’t be able to keep sending me lingerie and phallic fruit baskets.”

Jason couldn’t help his laugh at that and nuzzled Tim’s head, answering, “Sorry, Baby Bird, but that’s not an option. Better to just go back and get it over with, like ripping off a bandaid.”


	7. Chapter 7

Tony had been talking with Timothy Drake for ten minutes and was coming to the realization that, if Drake was in fact up to something nefarious, he had a damn good act as the single most boring person alive. The guy had spent seven of the ten minutes nervously blabbering about his husband and the other three worrying about missing work and frankly, Tony was one mention of Drake’s husband from putting his head through the table they were seated at. The man was oblivious to his own boringness, however, and just kept talking until Tony finally stood and stated, “I need to show you something, Mr. Drake.”

Drake looked surprised, but obediently stood and followed Tony out of the conference room and towards the cells where they were keeping the kid and Red Helmet. As they walked, Drake nervously fiddled with his tie, making Tony internally roll his eyes, and kept opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to ask questions. Tony studiously ignored his behavior and scanned his eye to enter the room with the cells, opening the door and leading Drake in. Drake looked startled as they reached the kid’s cell and Tony snapped his head to glare at Steve as he realized that Red Helmet was in the cell with the kid. The kid was curled up in Red Helmet’s lap, his head tucked under Red Helmet’s chin, and Red Helmet was whispering to him, nuzzling the top of the kid’s head like an overgrown cat. The kid said something to make Red Helmet laugh and Tony raised an eyebrow as the kid snuggled closer to Red Helmet’s chest, apparently feeling completely safe as he whined, “Fine. But next time that crusty old bastard sends me dick-shaped cantaloupe, I won’t be held responsible for what I do to him.” 

Red Helmet laughed at that, then answered, “You say that as though you think I won’t help you with whatever you have planned. Trust me, Baby Bird, I don’t think there is  _ anyone _ who wants that motherfucker to suffer more than you and I do. I will gladly assist in whatever way you need to make his life a living Hell.”

The kid gave a pleased noise at that and cheerfully stated, “See, this is why I love you, Jay. You support me in all of my endeavors.”

Before Red Helmet (Jay?) could respond, Tony cleared his throat, attracting their attention. In a heartbeat, Red Helmet had the kid tucked behind him protectively, scowling at Tony and asking coldly, “And who the fuck are you?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, sniping back, “I should be asking you that. After all, you’re the one who broke into my tower.”

Red Helmet snarled and Steve cleared his throat pointedly, interceding, “You agreed to answer some questions for us. I think introductions are a good start. I’m Steve Rogers, Captain America. This is Tony Stark, Iron Man.”

Red Helmet studied them for a minute, then grudgingly stated, “Jason. Red Hood.”

The kid hesitated, glancing at Drake, but chimed in, “Tim. Red Robin.”

“Like the restaurant?”

“What restaurant?”

Tony rubbed his forehead at Tim’s apparent lack of knowledge that he was named after a restaurant, then rounded on Steve and asked, “Why are they in a cell together? They were separated when I left.”

Steve straightened, then answered, “Red- Jason agreed to answer some questions for us if I put them in the same cell.”

Jason scowled at that, snapping, “Speaking of, get to asking. I’d like to get us home before anyone finds out about this little misadventure and comes looking.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, then queried, “Who would be looking for you?”

“Lotta people. The unpleasant ones being Tim’s stalker, namely, and our… Tim’s dad, who I either tolerate or want dead, depending on the day.”

Tim made a gagging noise at the mention of his stalker and announced, “If he shows up here, I vote we figure out how to leave him here. Permanently.”

“Seconded, Baby Bird.”

Tony let out a deep breath through his nose and gritted out, “Okay, start at the beginning. Where are you from and why are you here? And, once again, why does scanning Tim’s face bring up this guy?”

He gestured to Drake, who was still staring in shock, and Tim winced, offering meekly, “Um, well, short answer? He’s… me? We- Jason and I, that is- we’re from a different universe. I went after some weapons smugglers who had alien tech and it turned out to be some sort of multiversal transport beam, I guess, because I woke up here. Completely unintentionally, by the way. And, looking back at my actions, I’m thinking I slightly overreacted. So. Y’know. Sorry.”

Steve looked bewildered and, clearly latching onto the first thing that he understood, stated, “I think holding a scalpel to your own throat and then to mine counts as a bit more than ‘slightly overreacted’. You could’ve killed one of us.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he rounded on Tim, hissing, “You did what?!?”

That earned him a weak smile and Tim trying to argue, “In my defense, I had just gotten shot several times and then woken up without my mask. I feel justified in having reacted badly to that. You nearly killed B the first time he tried that, you can’t judge me.”

Jason scoffed at that, reaching out and tipping Tim’s chin up to examine his neck as he answered, “I don’t give a shit that you held it to blondie’s throat, that’s whatever. I’m more concerned about the fact that you held it to your own throat, Baby Bird.”

“I’m not totally stupid. I held it with the blade facing away from my skin. Not my fault they weren’t paying enough attention to notice.”

Jason hummed thoughtfully, but released Tim’s chin in favor of dragging Tim into his lap, muttering, “We’re talking about this later, Baby Bird.”

Tim huffed petulantly, but settled against Jason’s chest as Tony asked, “So that kind of explains why Tim is here, but not Jason.”

Jason set his chin on top of Tim’s head, sighing, “Baby Bird here missed our date, so I asked around, found out that he’d gone dark about 13 hours prior at a warehouse. Oracle directed me there, found the files about the tech, told me the best bet to get Tim back was to get my hands on one of the guns and get myself sent into this universe. So here I am, the knight in scuffed leather to Tim’s dumbass in distress.”

“How very poetic, Jay. Shakespeare would be so proud of you.”

Jason made a face at Tim’s sarcasm, swatting Tim’s knee lightly as he argued, “Shakespeare’s works are laden with dick jokes and innuendos, so yes, I think he would be.”

Tim rolled his eyes and Drake cleared his throat, squeaking, “I don’t- I don’t suppose your name is Jason Todd?”

Jason quirked an eyebrow, answering, “Yeah, why?”

Then his expression turned into something verging on horror and he asked, “Please don’t tell me that this universe’s version of me tried to kill you, too.”

Drake blushed and cleared his throat, answering, “Ah, n-no. You, uh, well. This universe’s Jason Todd is my husband. And, well, seeing a young version of him, it’s… Nevermind. I should really be getting home. He’ll be worrying.”

Tony sighed, then called, “FRIDAY, could you show Mr. Drake to the helipad and have Nat take him home, please?”

FRIDAY lit up the floor tiles at Drake’s feet, leading him out the door as Tim whispered something to Jason that made both of them bust out laughing. Tim tipped his head back to nuzzle Jason’s chin, then sighed and adjusted to stare at Tony, sighing, “Speaking of getting home, any chance of us being allowed to leave anytime soon? Preferably before anyone else from our universe shows up?”

As soon as the words were uttered, FRIDAY announced, “There is another intruder on the roof, Boss.”

Tim dropped his chin and flopped bonelessly against Jason.

“I had to fucking say it, didn’t I?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long delay. School has been kicking my ass since we went to online classes. Hopefully I'll be able to update more regularly now that I've gotten kinda into the swing of things.

The man slowly getting up off of the roof after dropping out of a glowing green portal was wearing nothing but a mask. Not even boxers, like the kid had been, just a plain black mask, and Clint immediately looked at the edge of the roof, wondering if he could just dive off and not address the fact that his brain immediately went to “Oh, wow, he’s  _ really _ hot”. Instead, he held up his bow with a resigned sigh and asked, “Seriously, man? You’re gonna make me have to apprehend a naked guy? You couldn’t even put on a pair of boxers or a sock or  _ something _ ?”

The man’s face went completely scarlet and he covered himself with his hands, answering awkwardly, “In my defense, I was wearing clothing before I got sent through the portal to… Are we in New York? It looks different than I remember.”

Clint rolled his eyes and he sighed, “Are you here for the kid or the dude in the red helmet? Or are you here for another, unrelated reason?”

The guy gave a weak smile, answering, “Uh, both? I mean, I’m here to drag those two idiots home? Sorry, um, who are you?”

Clint cocked an eyebrow, then stated, “Hawkeye.”

The guy nodded, then, after a few seconds of awkwardly staring at each other, blurted, “Oh, I’m Nightwing. You, uh, mentioned Red- the kid and the guy in the red helmet were here? Any idea where I could find them?”

Clint weighed his options, then sighed and lowered his bow, leading the guy towards the door just as Tony, Steve, the kid, and the guy in the red helmet (sans helmet) burst through it. Almost as soon as they saw him, the kid and Red Helmet (Clint should really ask their names at some point) moved to cover their eyes as Red Helmet cried, “Fucking shit, Dickwing, I know you’re an exhibitionist, but goddamn! Put that shit away!”

Naked Guy groaned, complaining, “I was wearing my suit when I went through the portal, I swear! How the Hell was I supposed to know it wouldn’t bring my suit?”

“I dunno, dumbass, maybe ask your girlfriend? She had no issues tellin’ me that it wouldn’t take spandex.”

Naked Guy pouted and Red Helmet rolled his eyes, pulling his shirt off and throwing it at Naked Guy with a barked order of, “Put this on, you fuckin’ dipshit.”

Naked Guy caught the shirt and pulled it over his head, the shirt just large enough to conceal his family jewels. Tony cleared his throat, asking, “I’m guessing he’s from your universe?”

Red Helmet rolled his eyes, but stated, “Meet Tim’s big brother and a big pain in my ass, Dick, aka Nightwing.”

Dick waved awkwardly and Steve gave him a polite nod, introducing, “I’m Steve Rogers, Captain America.”

His eyes glanced Dick up and down, then locked onto Dick’s left calf, which, when Clint looked, was bleeding from a pretty deep gash. The kid seemed to notice it too and elbowed Red Helmet, nodding towards Dick and giving a hand gesture that presumably meant something to Red Helmet. Red Helmet sighed, then asked resignedly, “The fuck happened to your leg, dumbass?”

Dick’s expression was a touch sheepish and he answered, “Well, uh, you see… I don’t know how long it’s been for you guys, but it's been two days for us and, uh, Ra’s wasn’t too pleased when Tim didn’t show up at his apartment? Which, what the fuck, Tim? And he kinda sent some of his underlings after me?”

The kid rolled his eyes and stated flatly, “I kinda hope that crusty old bastard comes here, because if he does, I’m finding a way to leave him here. As for the ‘What the fuck, Tim?’ part of that question, I don’t have an answer. I really don’t. Sometimes he just shows up and bothers me until I chase him off.”

Red Helmet made a face and reached out to snag the kid, whose name was presumably Tim, to drag him in against his chest, tucking Tim under his chin and mumbling a few words in Arabic that made Clint give a low whistle. Tim swatted at Red Helmet lightly, half-heartedly scolding, “Language, Jason. There could be children about.”

Red Helmet- Jason- rolled his eyes and tucked Tim closer, sighing, “We should really go home.”

Steve looked perturbed and cut in, “We still have a few questions for you. It’s not often we get to meet heroes from other universes.”

Tim snorted slightly, then stated, “Trust me, you definitely don’t want us sticking around, because if Dick is here, that means that our littlest brother will be here in about ten minutes because Dick told him not to.”

Steve looked confused by that and asked, “And that’s a problem because…?”

“Because that little shit is even more likely to put a blade to your throat than Timmy here is. Especially since we’ve both been unmasked and his favorite brother is practically naked. He’ll see it as a risk to the family and a slight against Dick’s nonexistent honor and whatever.”

Dick opened his mouth with a protesting noise, then, at the pointed looks he received from both Tim and Jason, closed it with a sulky look and a grumble of, “He’s getting better about the ’threatening people with knives’ thing.”

“Sure he is, Dick. Listen, Tony, Steve, guy with the bow and arrows, can we please get our stuff and go home? I, personally, would very much like to make sure that Ra’s didn’t bug my apartment again. Not to mention how worried the rest of the family must be about us.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, then asked, “And how exactly are you planning on doing that?”

Tim’s hopeful expression fell and Jason butted in, “I had one of the guns with me when I came through. It should take up home.”

That earned a slight wince from all three present Avengers and Tony asked, “I don’t suppose you mean the one that looks vaguely like a blaster from Star Trek?”

“Obviously.”

Steve and Tony looked at each other, both clearly unwilling to say what had happened, so CLint rolled his eyes and stated, “When Natasha tranqed you, you fell on it. It’s in about a thousand pieces. Tony said he could probably fix it, but it’ll take some time.”

Tony shifted slightly and Tim frowned, asking, “How much time are we talking?”

Tony hesitated, then answered, “A week at minimum. Maybe more.”

Before anyone could reply, there was a loud bang that Clint had already heard twice before and a glowing green portal opened, dumping a kid who couldn’t be more than 12 onto the roof. He was dressed in a weird red tunic, a yellow and black cape, and green boots, with no pants that Clint could see. He, like Dick, was wearing a domino mask, but also had a katana sheath slung across his back. As soon as the kid hit the roof, the portal closed, leaving the whole rooftop in stunned silence. Dick immediately moved forward to check the kid over, but it was Jason who broke the silence.

“Well, fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to those of you who guess Dick, Damian, or both!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any typos, I'm writing this at 1:00 AM and I don't have a beta-reader.

Damian woke up on a soft, squishy surface, like a couch, with a blanket over him and a hand running through his hair. Before he could react, however, he heard Drake’s stupid voice state, “So, we’re stuck here for at least a week. B is definitely not gonna be happy with us.”

There was a snort of laughter and Todd chimed in, “Like that’s anything new.”

Damian held completely still, trying to assess where he was and who was in the room with him before revealing himself to be awake, but Grayson’s voice quietly stated, “I know you’re awake, Little D.”

Damian frowned at that, but opened his eyes and slowly sat up, realizing with a flash of embarrassment that he wasn’t wearing any pants under the blanket. As soon as he was sitting up, Grayson handed him a small stack of folded gray clothes and stated, “There’s a bathroom just down the hall where you can get changed. The first door on the left.”

Grayson, Drake, and Todd were all unmasked and dressed in relatively similar gray clothes, plain t-shirts and sweatpants, and Drake and Todd were apparently trying to occupy the same space, as per usual. Damian made his way to the bathroom he had been directed to, trying to walk normally despite the throbbing pain in his left ankles, and changed into the t-shirt and sweatpants, then returned to the room with his brothers and settled on the opposite end of the couch from Grayson. His attempt to avoid Grayson’s mothering was ultimately unsuccessful, however, and Grayson was leaning over him in a heartbeat, asking, “Are you hurt anywhere? I told you to stay at home! You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Dami!”

Damian, not being a masochist, immediately lied through his teeth, “I am fine, Grayson.”

Drake muttered something that Damian couldn’t quite hear, but Todd gave him a gentle squeeze and stated, “Pot calling the kettle black, aren't cha, Baby Bird. Accusing the Baby Bat of hiding injuries when I have very clear memories of you telling Dick not 5 minutes ago that you’re not injured.”

That made Grayson’s head snap around and he growled, “What was that, Jason?”

Drake shied back guiltily, but Todd held Grayson’s stare with an impressive bravery, answering, “Calm your tits, Dickhead. I’ve already given him a thorough check. You just worry about your Baby Bat. He seemed to be favoring his right leg when he went to change.”

Grayson’s fierce gaze returned to Damian, who in turn glared at Todd and hissed, “Traitor.”

Todd’s answering smirk made Damian reflexively snarl, but Grayson interrupted, giving Damian a pair of puppy-dog eyes to rival Titus and asking, “Dami, tell me the truth. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Damian gave a put-upon sigh, then answered, “Fine. I twisted my left ankle while searching for you. It is a negligible injury, however, and-”

He was cut off by Grayson immediately going into mother-hen mode, retrieving a first-aid kit from a nearby table and squatting down to check Damian’s ankle. He wrapped it, gave Damian strict orders to not walk on it, then rounded on Drake, who gave an appropriately terrified squeak and tried to escape. Todd restrained him, however, and Grayson began mothering Drake as Drake whined, “Jayyyyyyy, I thought you loved meeeeee!”

Todd snorted at that and kissed Drake’s head, answering, “I do, Baby Bird. That’s why I didn’t tell him about you holding a scalpel to your own throat.”

Grayson made a distressed sound and brought his hands up to squish Drake’s face, asking earnestly, “Tim, you did  _ what _ ? Why?”

Drake made to bite at Grayson’s fingers, but Grayson had been trained well by Damian’s proclivity towards biting and evaded with ease, keeping his hands on Drake’s face the whole time. Apparently realizing that, Drake attempted to claw at Grayson’s hands, but was restrained by Todd, who had apparently decided that antagonizing Drake was how he wanted to die for the second time. An odd choice, but Todd had proven himself over and over again to have poor decision-making skills, so Damian wasn’t going to question it as he settled in to watch Drake suffer through Grayson’s mothering. Grayson worriedly poked and prodded and questioned and scolded Drake for what felt like an eternity before finally stepping back and asking, “Are you hiding any injuries from me, Jay?”

Todd snorted and answered, “A bruised knee is the worst I got for ya, Dickhead.”

Drake huffed angrily and gave a grumbled threat of, “Not for long.”

Todd responded by pressing a loud kiss to Drake’s head and received an elbow to the gut for it. Grayson returned to the couch, sprawling out on it, and sighed, “Ten bucks says B will come find us before Tony can get the portal gun thing fixed.”

Todd snorted and shot back, “That’s a sucker’s bet, Dickhead.”

Grayson shrugged, then gave another sigh and closed his eyes, stating, “I’m bored.”

Before anyone could say a word, however, the window on the far wall slid open and a person in a bright red and blue suit with a black spider climbed in through it, tripping over the sill and face-planting on the floor with a thump. Damian was on his feet in an instant, instinctively reaching for his sword, and made a note of his brothers’ positions. Grayson was also on his feet, ready to leap forward, and Todd had moved to shield Drake. The person on the floor bounced to their feet after a second, then froze when they noticed them. There were several seconds of awkward silence before the person asked, “Uh. Did- Did Mr. Stark let you in here?”

Damian shifted, wondering who the person was talking about, but Drake answered, “Yeah. He told us to wait in here for a bit while he figured some stuff out.”

The person relaxed and answered, “Oh. Okay. I’m Spiderman, it’s nice to meet you.”

The room was tense and uncomfortable and Spiderman looked them over, clearly confused. Finally, Grayson stated, “I’m Dick. This is Jason, Tim, and Damian.”

Spiderman nodded along, then, having apparently deemed the ice sufficiently broken, asked, “It’s nice to meet you all. If you don’t mind, what are you guys doing here?”

Todd rolled his eyes and settled back onto the loveseat beside Drake, dragging Drake back into his lap and answering, “Long story. Short version is, we’re from a different universe and are here for reasons mostly relating to the fact that Timmy here got himself tossed through a portal.”

The fact that they were in an alternate universe was news to Damian, though it did make sense, and he concealed his surprise before stating, “I am not here for Drake.”

Todd rolled his eyes, then amended, “Sure, whatever, Baby Bat. Fine. Dick and I are here for Tim, who Damian 100% does not care about in the slightest and would leave here without a thought. Happy, Demon Brat?”

Damian hissed back a few words in Arabic that would have definitely cost him a few dollars in the Swear Jar and Drake rolled his own eyes, stating, “Thank you  _ so much  _ for that, Jay. Such a helpful statement.”

Todd gave a smirk and Grayson cleared his throat, giving Todd a pointed look and stating, “Tony is helping us get back to our own universe and offered to let us stay here until he can fix the portal gun thingy that brought us here.”

Spiderman nodded along, then stated, “Cool. Well, uh, I need to go see if Mr. Stark needs anything, so, uh, bye?”

Then Spiderman was making his way out of the room and Dick flopped back onto the couch.

“I’m bored.”


	10. Chapter 10

Bruce Wayne was having a day. He had arrived back in Gotham after an off-planet mission from Hell (fucking Hal Jordan needed to learn to keep his mouth shut) to learn that Steph had broken three of her ribs, Duke had gotten suspended for punching a kid who was harassing Damian (Bruce was honestly just grateful that Duke got to the kid before Damian could), and his other four sons had been blasted into an alternate universe by weapons smugglers. And so, despite having arrived in Gotham less than an hour previously, Bruce put on a clean Batsuit and headed out to punch some weapons smugglers until they told him how to get his sons back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim was sitting on the overly squishy couch in the room they had been basically quarantined in, absolutely seething. Dick had harassed him about the scalpel thing for hours after the initial ten-minute interrogation, Damian had been giving him shit about having gotten captured in the first place, and it was becoming increasingly tempting to punch Jason every time he tried to grovel and beg for forgiveness for getting Dick started on the scalpel thing in the first place. Not to mention the way that both his stomach and his back were starting to ache like a bitch the longer he sat on the shitty, overly squishy couch that felt like sitting on a rotting peach and the way his head throbbed from both his concussions and from somehow managing to simultaneously have gotten too much and yet not enough sleep. Every ache and pain and shitty feeling he had repressed when he thought he was in danger were making their presence known now that he was safe and frankly, if Tim didn’t get some sleep soon, he was very likely going to snap and kill someone, probably Damian.

“At least I didn’t get captured like Drake did.”

It was definitely going to be Damian.

Tim finally gave a pathetic whine and slunk down on the couch to curl into a ball on his side. The lights and the sounds of Damian arguing with Dick were starting to feel like nails being driven into his skull and Tim clamped his hands over his ears, hoping to block them out. Then a familiar hand was cupping his cheek and Tim cracked one eye open to see Jason’s worried face. Jason’s voice was soft and gentle and slightly muffled by Tim’s hands over his ears as he asked, “What do you need, Baby Bird?”

Tim closed his eyes again and, voice somehow both weak and yet too loud to him, answering, “I need peace and quiet and sleep. My head hurts, my back hurts, my injuries hurt, and I just desperately need like an hour of uninterrupted sleep before I kill someone.”

Jason’s hand moved to stroke through Tim’s hair and Tim heard him snap, “Hey, dipshits, shut the fuck up, would you?”

Damian hissed something back that Tim was too tired to care about, but he and Dick went quiet. Moments later, Jason’s hand left Tim’s face and, a few seconds after that, the light glaring through his eyelids went dark. Then he heard Jason say to the camera in the corner, “Any chance of us getting him to a bed? And maybe getting him some pain meds?”

Then Jason’s hands were back, stroking through his hair. Tim leaned into it and felt the couch shift as Jason sat down, one hand moving to gently rub his neck. The room was peacefully silent for a few minutes, then the door opened and Spiderman’s voice hesitantly stated, “Um, Mr. Stark asked me to show you guys to one of the spare rooms.”

Tim cringed at the idea of having to stand, then gave a startled yelp when Jason’s warm hands scooped him up, snuggling Tim against his chest like a child, one hand around his back and one under his butt to support him. Tim immediately buried his face in Jason’s shoulder, trusting Jason to keep him safe, and Jason kissed the side of his head as he started walking. They walked for a few minutes, then stopped in what was presumably an elevator, which began to rise. Spiderman was chattering nervously, probably unnerved by the silence, and the elevator slowed and then stopped. Jason started walking again and Tim vaguely heard a door open and Spiderman awkwardly chattering again. Then Jason’s arm was pulling away from his waist and Tim gave an unhappy noise. A soft kiss was pressed to the side of his head and Jason whispered, “It’s okay, Baby Bird, I’m pulling the blankets back. Then you can lay down and sleep for a bit.”

Tim nodded against Jason’s shoulder and heard fabric rustling before he was set down on a firm yet soft mattress that felt like heaven against his sore back. He cracked one eye open, looking around the room, and couldn’t help but feel confused when he realized that it was like a fancy hotel room, with two queen beds and a small sofa. Dick was trying to convince Damian to sleep in the bed instead of on the couch, to no avail, and Tim reached out to grab Jason’s shirt as Jason started to pull away. Jason looked surprised and murmured, “Spiderkid said there were some painkillers in the bathroom. I was gonna go grab them for you.”

Tim tugged on his shirt and closed his eyes, answering, “Too tired. When I wake up.”

A kiss was pressed to Tim’s temple and the mattress shifted slightly as Jason laid down, gently tucking Tim against his side as he pulled the blankets over them. Tim nestled in, the pain in his back alleviated enough by the mattress to let him drift asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason woke up with Tim inside his shirt, face pressed against Jason’s chest. The top of Tim’s hair poked out the neck of Jason’s shirt and Jason laughed softly, wondering how Tim had managed to slither into his shirt without waking him. Tim’s breathing was slow and even, warm against Jason’s skin, and Jason glanced around the room, noting with surprise that the sun had set. The clock on the bedside table told him that it was just past midnight and Dick and Damian were both asleep, Dick on the couch and Damian in the bed. The whole scene was peaceful and Jason didn’t want to get up, but nature called and he reluctantly eeled his way out of the shirt that Tim was cohabiting, managing the feat with only sleepy grumbles and an unhappy whine from Tim, who tried to grab at Jason in his sleep. Jason slid a pillow into Tim’s grip and Tim snuggled it with a contented noise, allowing Jason to make his way to the bathroom and do his business. Once he had washed his hands, Jason made his way over to the window, staring out over New York City and trying to spot the differences from what he remembered of New York. It didn’t look too different, little things, and Jason wondered how this universe’s Gotham looked and if it even existed. He was so caught up in his own thoughts, staring out the window without actually seeing anything, that he was caught totally off guard when something large and heavy hit the window, crashing through it. The glass breaking and the blaring of alarms woke the others up and they all leapt to ready positions as Jason lunged at the figure, tackling them to the ground. They crashed to the ground and Jason hissed as a shard of glass sliced his shin open, then froze when he realized that the figure was someone he knew. Batman was laying under him, ready to fight, and Jason groaned, standing up and ordering “Someone get me a med kit.”

Dick hurried into the bathroom and Jason limped over to the couch, stepping carefully to hopefully avoid cutting his feet on the glass. Bruce hurried over, taking the first-aid kit from Dick’s hands, and Jason stated flatly, “Lose the mask, B, we’re not a thing in this universe.”

Bruce frowned, but, after a moment, pulled his cowl back and began tending to Jason’s leg. Jason considered kicking him in the face, but Tim, knowing Jason, gave him a look and Jason suppressed the urge, holding still. The door burst open just as Bruce finished and Bruce went to pull his mask up, but Jason lightly kicked his shoulder and stated, “Don’t shoot, it’s just B. He’s not great at subtlety.”

Stark and Rogers were standing in the doorway, along with a brown-haired guy in sweatpants and a big buff blonde in what looked like fantasy armor. Stark seemed deeply troubled by the whole situation and pinched the bridge of his nose in a very dad-like move, asking, “Who the fuck is B?”

Tim piped up at that, stating, “Our dad. Kinda. It’s complicated. Hey, B, how is Steph doing? Jason mentioned she got injured just after I got sent here.”

Bruce stood, giving the group in the doorway his Bat-Dad Glare™ (similar to yet distinct from his ‘Bat Glare’ and his ‘Dad Glare’), and kept silent, apparently trying to intimidate them. Rogers mostly just looked baffled and, after a few seconds of awkward silence, asked, “How many of you are there?”

Jason snorted at that, but Tim just looked thoughtful, musing, “That kinda depends on how you define the boundaries of the group. Because, like, B has six official children currently, not taking into account any future children he’ll adopt, plus at least four more people who he views as his kids, plus his cousin, plus Agent A, plus whatever the fuck Catwoman is, plus the whole mess with Terry, which might not even count because time-travel, plus- Wait, are we counting people in the family, heroes in general, or just the heroes who operate in Gotham? Because those numbers are going to be wildly different. For that matter, are we only counting the heroes or are we also counting the civilians who are part of the mess? Do the cops who help us out count as heroes or-”

“I think that what Baby Bird is trying to say is that it’s too goddamn many to bother naming even with the strictest boundaries of the group and that trying to list everyone involved in this little shit show would be a fruitless endeavor because by the time we get to the end, someone else will have joined the group.”

Bruce frowned, protesting, “There’s not that many peo-”

“I’ll believe that when the number drops below the double digits, B. I know you like trying to pull off the whole ‘I work alone’ bullshit, but that has literally never been true. Even before you adopted me, Alfred was there.”

Dick’s interruption made Bruce close his mouth, apparently having accepted that Dick was right, and Stark asked, “So, what, you just let people join you whenever?”

Jason nearly joked on his laugh and answered, “If you think for even a second that he can stop us, you’re so fucking wrong. He’ll try, but bull-headed stubbornness is practically a requirement to be a Gotham hero.”

Bruce made a face at that, grunting, “Don’t remind me.”

Dick patted his shoulder and stated, “You have no one to blame but yourself. You raised us, after all.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, but, before he could comment on the fact that they had all been stubborn little shits long before he met them (and if anyone tried to argue that, present Exhibits A and B: Jason Peter Todd and Timothy Jackson Drake), Big and Blonde asked, “Stark, who are your young friends?”

Stark opened his mouth, then closed it again as a teenager with curly brown hair skittered up to him, socked feet sliding on the hardwood of the hallway and sending both him and Stark crashing to the floor. The kid sprang to his feet, babbling apologies, then stopped when he saw Bruce and hesitantly asked, “Uh, Mr. Stark, who is that?”

Stark got to his own feet and sighed, answering, “Still working on that, Underoos. Care to introduce yourself?”

Judging from Bruce’s expression, he didn’t care to introduce himself, so Jason stepped in to do it for him, introducing, “Meet Bruce, the Batman and single-handedly the cause of most of my headaches.”

Bruce shot Jason an annoyed look, but stated gruffly, “I’m here to bring my sons home. We’ll be on our way.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the wait, motivation has been hard to come by these last few weeks.

Tony was definitely judging Bat-Bruce, as he had dubbed the multiversal interloper so as to differentiate him from Science Bro Bruce. That judgement was in part because the guy had broken into his Tower by shattering the window, injuring Jason in the process if the bandage around Jason’s leg was any indication, but mostly stemmed from the fact that Bat-Bruce’s kids had scars and a lot of them. His mind flashed back to the scar on Tim’s neck and he gritted his teeth, tucking Peter against his side and asking, “So, you’re his kids, huh?”

Jason gestured to the other three, answering, “They are. I’m a bit more complicated.”

Bat-Bruce frowned and Tony raised an eyebrow, then asked, “So how did the four of you get into the hero thing? Clearly he started it, so is it like a family business?”

Dick smiled slightly at that, replying, “Well, I started out as Robin, Batman’s partner, to find my parents’ murderer, then eventually traded it in for Nightwing.”

Jason threw in his two cents, adding, “I got caught jacking B’s tires and he adopted me and made me Robin. Then I died, came back about 45% more off my rocker, and became a crime-lord with a side of vigilantism for a bit before making the return trip to sanity and becoming a ‘hero’.”

“I was given the mantle of Robin by Nightwing while he was Batman to help curb the more homicidal tendencies Mother trained into me.”

Tony opened his mouth to ask for clarification on Jason’s and Damian’s answers, but Tim piped up before he could say anything, stating casually, “I stalked B, Dick, and Jason throughout Gotham for years until Jason died and I decided that B needed a new Robin, so I stepped in and blackmailed him into training me.”

“Wha- I don’t- What the actual fuck?”

Steve frowned at Tony, then seemed to process what Tim had said and asked, “Wait, you did what?”

Tim gave them a completely innocent look, repeating in the most nonchalant tone humanly possible, “I stalked Bruce, Dick, and Jason throughout Gotham while they were out being heroes, figured out their identities, then, after Jason died and Bruce started to spiral, recognized that Bruce needed a Robin and blackmailed him into training me to be the new Robin.”

Steve looked a bit like he had been slapped, but Thor nodded sagely and observed, “You would get along well with my brother Loki, I believe. He, too, is a fan of blackmail and trickery.”

Tim quirked an eyebrow, then asked, “Loki, as in Loki the god of mischief in Norse mythology?”

“Ah, you know him? Delightful!”

Jason muttered something that made Tim swat him in the chest, then dragged Tim down onto the couch with him and cuddled Tim to his chest. Tim looked completely resigned to his new position and shifted until he was comfortable, asking, “What time is it?”

Tony looked at his watch, answering, “Half past one in the morning.”

Bat-Bruce made a disgruntled noise and Science Bro Bruce cleared his throat, asking, “Uh, Tony, who are these people?”

Tony blinked in surprise, then answered, “Right. Well, uh, these guys are from an alternate universe. Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, and now Bruce. From what I’ve learned, they’re heroes in their universe.”

Science Bro Bruce looked over the group, then stated, “On second thought, I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

Then he turned and walked away. Thor looked torn between following his boyfriend and staying with Tony and Tony shooed him away, sending Thor walking after Science Bro Bruce. Bat-Bruce turned to look over his sons, apparently having deemed Tony, Steve, and Peter not worthy of his attention, and studied each of them in turn. His frown deepened when he saw the bandages around Damian’s ankle and ordered, “Robin, report.”  
  
Damian straightened up and answered, “After Nightwing left to find Red Hood and Red Robin, I followed with the intention of assisting.”

“Against my express orders. Don’t look at me like that, B. I told him to stay home.”

The stern, disapproving look on Bat-Bruce’s face was returned to fix on Damian, who wilted slightly under it and continued, “I intervened in a mugging on my way to Nightwing’s location and twisted my left ankle. Gr- Nightwing has already checked it.”  
  


Bat-Bruce nodded and turned his sights on Tim, who Tony noticed for the first time was wearing two shirts, one that fit him relatively well and one that was several sizes too big, presumably Jason’s based on the fact that Jason was shirtless. Tim crossed his arms and, completely straight-faced, totally remorseless, lied through his teeth.

“I’m not hurt besides the busted arm, B.”

His face was completely serious, no tells to be seen, and Tony probably would have actually believed the kid if not for having seen the mess that had been Tim’s abdomen after they fished all the bullets out of him. Dick opened his mouth, probably to call Tim on his lie, but Tim gave him a look that made even Tony want to take a couple steps back and Dick closed his mouth as Jason chimed in, “Baby Bird is fine, B. I already gave him a thorough check.”

Bat-Bruce nodded, clearly accepting the lie as fact, and asked, “Jason, Oracle informed me that you had a transporter device. Why are you all still here?”

Jason winced, then answered, “Yeah, it got a bit busted up in transit. Stark said he could fix it within a week, though.”

Bat-Bruce looked resigned and reached into his suit, pulling out a device similar to the one that Jason had had. He pointed it at Dick, who stepped forward, and pulled the trigger. The device made a high-pitched whining noise, then caught fire. Bat-Bruce dropped it and quickly draped his cape over it, smothering the flames in fast, efficient movements. Tim sighed and rested his head against Jason’s shoulder, stating sarcastically, “Well, that sure worked.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About 45 minutes after Bruce arrived, Stark and Rogers directed them to a new room with an unbroken window (thanks, B. Real subtle there). Tim couldn’t help but note the way that Stark glared at Bruce, the disapproval in his eyes more severe than one would expect from just a broken window, but wrote it off as just Stark being grumpy at being woken up. Tim noted the camera in the room they were shown to, but frankly couldn’t care less, since it had a blindspot in the bathroom that could be easily exploited and Tim was planning to do just that. His few hours of proper sleep had rejuvenated him enough that he had begun plotting, because he was a nosy little shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason woke up to Tim shifting and getting up out of bed. He reached for Tim sleepily, but Tim just gently tucked a pillow into his grip, which woke Jason up fully. He sat up, catching Tim’s wrist, and whispered, “What’re you doin’, Baby Bird?”

Despite the dark room, Jason could see Tim’s cheeks darken at being caught and Tim whispered, “There’s a vent in the bathroom that’s big enough to go sneaking through.”

Jason nodded and pulled Tim back into the bed, kissing him and mumbling, “It’ll be pretty suspect if you go into the bathroom alone and then don’t come back out.”

Tim hummed, whispering, “I’ll take that risk.”

“Or, if both of us go in there and then don’t come back out for awhile, it just looks like we’re doing something… private.”

Tim’s eyes widened at the suggestion, but he giggled and nipped at Jason’s lower lip before climbing out of the bed and strutted to the bathroom. He could hear Jason follow him and, as soon as they were both in the bathroom, Tim closed and locked the door before climbing up on the closed toilet to look at the vent grate. It was held closed with a latch and Tim opened it, judging the size of the opening before stating, “I think it’s big enough for you.”

Jason took a step back despite himself, the thought of being in such a tiny space reminding him far too much of his own coffin, and answered, “Yeah, no, not happening.”

Tim looked puzzled, until the realization seemed to hit him and he apologized, “Shit, sorry, I didn’t even think about that.”

Jason smirked and shook his head, answering, “Don’t worry about it, Baby Bird. I’ll just take a bath and relax. Maybe splash around a bit, make it sound like we’re up to something.”

Tim nodded and ducked down to kiss Jason’s forehead, then hauled himself up into the vent, closing the grate behind him. Jason shook his head, unable to keep the smile off his face at Tim’s incessant need to be nosy, then turned the bathtub faucet on and waited for hot water.


	12. Chapter 12

Tim had to admit, he was a little surprised by the fact that there were small, motion-activated lights in the vent ducts. He was grateful, though, because they would’ve been absolutely pitch black otherwise and, though not scared of the dark by any means, Tim was a fan of being able to see where he was going. Especially when creeping through unfamiliar vents in an unfamiliar building. His stitches ached and burned with the exertion of hauling himself up and he carefully felt his stomach to confirm that he hadn’t ripped any, then started crawling, peering through every grate he came across. Most of the rooms looked similar to the one they were in, empty and lit by the ambient light from the windows. As he reached the end of the vent shaft he was crawling along, he found himself facing a sheer drop where the shaft went down to the next floor. A small ladder was screwed into the side of the shaft and Tim took the opportunity provided, climbing down the ladder to continue his exploring. The next floor was mostly medical rooms like the one Tim had woken up in, the one below it conference rooms, and the one below that was offices. Tim hummed thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes at the computer on the desk of the office he was peering into, then made up his mind and opened the latch on the vent, making a note to alert Stark about how much of a security risk the easily-navigated vents were. He lightly dropped to the floor of the office, keeping a careful eye for cameras, and was surprised to find none visible as he crept to the desk. The name plate was a shiny silver, reading ‘Pepper Potts, C.E.O.’, and Tim nodded approvingly, settling into the desk chair and moving the mouse to wake up the computer. It was password-locked, of course, but Tim wasn’t the ‘nerd bird’ for nothing and promptly got to work breaking into the computer. It was surprisingly well-guarded, but Tim routinely hacked the Pentagon for the Hell of it and the computer was, after all, in home base, so the safe-guards were a bit looser. The computer was soon open for Tim’s perusal and he immediately began googling, pulling up pages and pages of information on his multiversal alternate, his family’s alternates, and the Avengers that Stark had mentioned. His own alternate was from Hoboken, New Jersey and worked at a small insurance company. Jason’s was a literature professor, Dick’s was a former Olympic gymnast turned gymnastics coach in his early fifties (real shocker there), Bruce’s was a retired firefighter in his early seventies, and Damian didn’t appear to exist, which wasn’t too surprising. His research into the Avengers proved much more interesting and Tim pored over the articles and Wikipedia pages for hours, until the sun started to rise and Tim realized that he had totally lost track of time. He quickly closed out of his pages, wiping any traces of his presence from the computers, and climbed back into the vents, trying to find his way back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint was curled up in his ‘nest’ in the vents, comfortable and about to drift asleep, when he heard movement coming towards him. In a heartbeat, he was wide awake, creeping towards the sound. He peered around the bend of the vent shaft, fully prepared to be attacked by flesh eating geese or whatever bullshit was happening this time, and instead found himself almost nose to nose with Tim, who gave a startled yelp and jerked back. Clint blinked in surprise, stunned into silence, then slowly asked, “Uhhhhh. What- Why are you in the vents?”

Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times, then finally stated, “I got fed up with Damian’s bullshit and decided to wander.”

Clint narrowed his eyes at Tim, trying to decide if the kid was actually telling the truth, and asked, “And the vents were the obvious answer?”

Tim’s voice was totally nonchalant, no tells that he was lying as he answered, “The bathroom vent was big enough to fit me and I am nothing if not an opportunist.”

It bugged Clint that he couldn’t tell if Tim was lying or not and he interrogated, “So, what, you got fed up with your brother and decided to go crawling around the vents with a busted arm and six freshly stitched bullet wounds in your gut? That seems like a bad idea.”

Tim shrugged casually and stated with that same unreadable nonchalance, “I am nothing but bad ideas and poor decisions compressed into 138 pound body for your inconvenience. At least, according to Jason.”

Clint couldn’t help his laugh and shook his head, sighing, “You shouldn’t be up here.”

Tim smiled and answered, “I was actually headed back to the room now.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, but watched as Tim opened up one of the vent latches and slithered through it, closing the vent behind him. Clint peered through the grate to make sure Tim wasn’t bullshitting him about that being his room and found Tim leaning over the bathtub, where Jason was asleep, his legs folded up so he could fit in the tub. Clint nodded, then locked the grate from the inside and returned to his nest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason woke up to Tim poking his cheek, calling, “Wakey wakey, Jay. Time to get out of the bath.”

Jason groaned, but opened his eyes, realizing with a flash of embarrassment that he had fallen asleep in the tub. Tim smirked and stripped out of his clothes as Jason got out of the tub, then drained the tub and turned on the shower. The water warmed quickly and Tim stepped in, rinsing the dust from the vents off. Jason joined him after a moment, washing Tim’s hair with gentle hands, and Tim relaxed into him, earning a soft kiss to his temple as Jason teased lightly, “Y’know, Baby Bird, if we really want to convince them that we were up to something sexy, I should leave some marks.”

Tim giggled and tilted his head to expose his neck, answering, “You really should.”

Jason nipped at Tim’s shoulder, sucking lightly, and moved his way across Tim’s shoulder and up his neck, leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake. Tim leaned into it, not even trying to hide his eagerness, then nearly jumped out of his skin when someone pounded on the door and Damian ordered, “Drake, Todd, hurry up. Father wishes to speak with us.”

Tim groaned, but Jason pulled away from his neck and called back, “Give us a minute, Brat. Baby Bird and I are  _ busy _ .”

Tim could practically see the disgust in Damian’s expression as his footsteps stomped away. Then Jason returned his attention to Tim and all of Tim’s higher thought processes went down the drain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later, Tim emerged from the bathroom with colorful hickeys decorating his neck and shoulders, dressed in Jason’s shirt and the sweatpants he had been provided. Jason was right behind him, no doubt looking insufferably smug, with his lack of shirt showing the scratches Tim had left on his back. Tim blushed at Dick’s raised eyebrow and, unsure of what to say, gestured at Jason and blurted, “It was his idea!”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, then apparently decided that he didn’t want to deal with it and instead asked, “Do you think we can trust these people?”

Tim leaned against Jason, resting his head on Jason’s chest, and answered, “I did some… research... last night and from what I found online, they seem to be on the up and up. Saved the world a few times, all that. It looks like they're the equivalent of the Justice League.”

Bruce nodded and Tim continued, “I also did some digging into our own counterparts, just out of curiosity, since I’ve already met mine. Nothing too interesting, aside from the age difference. They’re all about twenty years ahead of us. Oh, and Damian doesn’t exist here, since apparently Bruce never attracted Talia’s attention since he’s not Batman.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the door opening and a tense-looking Rogers stepping in. He shot Bruce a suspicious look, then turned his attention on the rest of them and stated, “Breakfast.”

Tim’s stomach rumbled as if on cue and he blushed as Jason laughed. Rogers looked at them, his eyes catching on the hickeys on Tim’s neck, and he gave Bruce another suspicious look. Jason ruffled Tim’s hair, then asked, “Any chance of me getting another shirt? Tim’s is kinda _unwearable_ right now and he needs the shirt more than I do.”

Rogers narrowed his eyes, but answered, “Yeah, I’ll have Tony bring one up to breakfast.”

Jason shrugged and followed Rogers, keeping Tim tucked against his side. Dick, Damian, and finally Bruce followed them and they piled into the elevator as Rogers faux-casually asked, “So, Tim, what happened to your neck?”

He shot another suspicious look at Bruce, which threw Tim for a bit of a loop, and Tim answered, “Jason got a bit overzealous in the shower.”

That earned him a puzzled look from Rogers and Jason gave Tim a gentle squeeze, answering, “You say that like you’re not the reason my back looks like I went ten rounds with an angry badger, Baby Bird.”

That made Rogers look even more confused and Jason rolled his eyes, stating, “We fucked in the shower this morning.”

Rogers’s face flushed scarlet and Dick groaned, whining, “Seriously, Little Wing? The rest of us have to use that shower, too, you know. Like, it’s one thing to suspect it and have to use the shower, it’s another thing to  _ know _ and have to use the shower.”

Jason just gave another insufferably smug grin and answered, “Then I suppose I should keep my mouth shut about where we’ve been in the Manor and Cave, huh?”

Dick gave another distressed noise and Tim swatted Jason, scolding, “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

Bruce gave a heavy sigh and requested, “Please, for the sake of my sanity, keep that information between you and Tim, Jason.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Bruce seemed to realize his mistake and paled. Jason, being comprised of about 70% pure spite, opened his mouth to list off all of the places that he and Tim had fucked (plus a few others that they hadn’t just to screw with Bruce, Tim suspected), but Tim gave him a sharp smack just to the left of where he knew Jason had a healing knife wound on his thigh and ordered, “Don’t you dare, Jason.”

Jason yelped and rubbed his thigh, but huffed and answered, “Fine. I guess they’ll just have to wonder.”

Rogers was an alarming shade of red as the elevator doors slid open to reveal a very nice, very large kitchen with a massive table off to one side. A dozen or so people were around the table, but there were still a few open seats around it, four together and one between Stark and a bulky guy with a metal arm. Steve settled into the seat beside Stark and, after a few moments of hesitation, Bruce sat down in the open seat beside the redhead that Tim had attacked on the roof. Damian sat beside him and Dick took the seat next to Damian, leaving the seat next to the skinny guy with black hair. Jason shrugged and plopped down, pulling Tim to sit in his lap. Tim rolled his eyes and the redheaded woman next to Stark cleared her throat, asking, “Uh, Tony, who are these?”

Stark looked abashed and answered, “Uh, well, it’s a kinda long story, Pep. Um-”

He glanced around the table for help and Dick cut in smoothly, “We’re travellers from another universe. It’s a long story, but Tim got sent over here on accident and the rest of us came over to get him back, but ran into some… complications. I’m Dick. These are my brothers Tim and Damian, our dad Bruce, and… Jason.”

Tim couldn’t help but laugh at his lack of stated relationship to Jason, knowing that Dick thought of Jason as his brother but also knowing that Dick was trying to avoid the possible incest questions (Tim was also happy to avoid them, since Jason had never been his brother except in Bruce’s and Dick’s eyes). The redhead raised an eyebrow, but introduced, “Pepper Potts. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dick gave her a brilliant smile and Rogers suggested, “It’s not a bad idea to go around and introduce ourselves. I’m Steve Rogers, Captain America.”

The guy beside him with the metal arm glanced up from his waffles, stating, “Bucky Barnes.”

Then there was Clint Barton/Hawkeye, Stark’s kids Peter Parker and Harley Keener, Colonel James Rhodes/Iron Patriot, Sam Wilson/Falcon, Bruce Banner/Hulk and Thor Odinson. The skinny guy between Thor and Tim sighed, then introduced, “I am Loki Laufeyson.”

Tim recalled what Thor had said about his brother Loki, then shrugged and stated, “I’m Tim, Red Robin.”

Jason shifted Tim slightly, chiming in, “Jason, Red Hood.”

Introductions continued through Dick, Damian, and Bruce (who received a lot of suspicious looks, which, what the fuck?) to the redhead that Tim had attacked, who introduced herself as Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, and finally to the redhead beside Stark, who introduced herself as Pepper Potts. Once the introductions had finished, no one seemed to know what to say and Tim’s stomach rumbled again, prompting him to reach for the coffee pot in the middle of the table. Jason, seeing his intentions, smacked Tim’s hand lightly and scolded, “Food first, Baby Bird.”

Tim huffed and took a single strawberry from the bowl, then grabbed the coffee before Jason could stop him and poured himself a mug, swatting Jason when Jason tried to take the mug. Jason responded by turning to Bruce and stating, “As I was sayin’ in the elevator, old man, Timmy and I have fucked-”

He was cut off with a yelp when Tim lightly kicked his bandaged shin and Tim complained, “Fine, you overbearing  _ asshole _ !”

He took two waffles and shoved half of the first into his mouth as Dick calmly stated, “He’s gonna make you pay for that, Little Wing.”

Jason shrugged and took a waffle for himself, answering, “Put it on my tab, Dickiebird. Somethin’ tells me he’s been plottin’ my second death since the day we fucked on top of-”

Tim cut him off with an elbow to the ribs and warned, “Another word out of you and I’ll make you  _ wish _ it was your death I was plotting, Jay.”

Jason pressed a kiss to the back of Tim’s head, clearly aware that the threat was all bark, but ate his waffles without another word. The silence, though familiar to Tim and the general Bat-Family, was clearly alien to the Avengers, who looked uncomfortable for several long, silent minutes before Banner asked, “So, you’re all heroes in your universe? If you don’t mind me asking, what are your powers?”

Tim snorted into his coffee and Dick gave a laugh, answering, “We, ah, don’t have any.”

Rogers looked doubtful and replied, “I find that hard to believe. Jason certainly has enhanced strength. He was able to destabilize the bracers of the containment cell he was in.”

Bruce turned to look at Jason, who shrugged and answered, “Side-effect of the Pit. I was worried about Tim and the Pit Rage kinda boosted me up a bit. I probably coulda busted outta there if Blondie hadn’t drugged me first. But other than that and damn good night-vision, nope, no powers. And the Pit thing only kicks in if I’m real fuckin’ pissed or somethin’ like that.”

Everyone at the table glanced at each other and Stark asked, “Seriously? None of the rest of you have powers?”

“Nope. Not as far as we know, at least, though I’m still not convinced Dick has bones. No normal human should be able to bend like that.”

Dick shot Tim a mock-offended look, then answered, “You consider hacking the Pentagon and the Watchtower a relaxing activity, Tim. You’re not one to talk about normal humans.”

Tim shrugged and Harley leaned forward, asking, “You’ve hacked the Pentagon before?”

Jason snickered and Tim elbowed him gently before stating, “Once or twice.”

That earned snickers from both Dick and Jason and Tim made a face, amending, “Once or twice a week.”

Harley grinned, leaning back in his chair and announcing, “That is so cool.”

Tim smiled at that and took another sip of his coffee as Sam asked, “What’s the Pit thing you mentioned, Jason?”

Tim felt Jason tense up under him, but Jason’s voice was totally nonchalant as he answered, “After I died and came back to life, Tim’s stalker used to it basically drag me out of my catatonic state, but it kinda drove me a bit insane and fucked me up pretty bad.”

Sam looked a bit like he had been punched, opening and closing his mouth for a moment before asking, “By died, do you mean like how Cap got frozen and thawed out or…?”

“I mean I got beaten to a bloody pulp in a warehouse with a crowbar by an insane clown and then blown up at the ripe old age of 15. I was autopsied, buried, and woke up six feet under in a pine box. I mean I fuckin’ died, dude.”

The whole table flinched and Tim gently squeezed Jason’s knee, then, deciding the subject needed to be changed before Jason killed someone, asked, “So, Stark, how are the repairs on the portal gun coming?”

Stark turned to glare at Bruce for some odd reason and Tim threw his hands up, practically shouting, “Alright, what the fuck? Why do you guys keep glaring at Bruce?”

Stark opened his mouth, then closed it, scowling for a long minute before Clint pinched the bridge of his nose and asked, “What kind of parent lets a 16-year old kid go out to fight crime and get shot six times? And we saw your scars, Tim, we can tell that you’ve been through some serious shit.”

The silence following Clint’s question was thick enough to cut as Tim stared at them in disbelief. It was finally broken by a strangled noise from Jason, who was shaking and had brought one hand up to his face. Tim turned to look and found that Jason was turning red, tears welling in his eyes as he tried to hold back his laughter. Tim sighed, burying his head in his hands as the sound of Dick’s suppressed laughter reached him. He counted to ten in his head, then sighed, “Oh, just laugh already, you assholes.”

Dick and Jason both broke down into near incoherent laughter, earning confused looks from the Avengers, and Tim waited for the two of them to stop laughing before stating, “First of all, I’m 21, not 16. Second of all, bold of you to assume Bruce could stop me from doing shit. As those of you who responded to Bruce breaking in last night may recall, I stalked him, discovered his identity, and then blackmailed him into training me. Third of all, not that it’s any of your business, but most of these scars came from working on my own after Bruce got lost in the timestream. As to what you’re implying, he may be an insufferable asshole sometimes, but Bruce has never abused any of us. We all made the choice to become vigilantes and Bruce couldn’t have stopped us one way or another. He tried. A lot.”

Tim’s tone had turned icy towards the end and silence overtook the table at his pronouncement until Jason leaned forward to snag a strawberry and asked, “And on that note, what’s the plan for today?”


	13. Chapter 13

Peter shifted uncomfortably at the tense air of the breakfast table and glanced at Harley, who looked about as uncomfortable as he felt, before finally suggesting, “Um, well, we should, uh, try to fix that portal thingy so we can get you home.”

Tim glanced at him, his blue eyes piercing to Peter’s very soul, then apparently deemed it safe to relax as he answered, “Yeah, that would be nice. The sooner we get home, the less likely it’ll be that anyone else in the family will decide to come over.”

Peter shifted in his seat and Harley curiously asked, “There are more of you?”

Jason gave a snort of laughter at that, stating, “If I had a dollar for every member of this family, I could probably hire one of Ra’s’s assassins to kill him with dick-shaped cantaloupe.”

Interdimensional-Bruce looked like he was about to protest, then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it when all four of his companions gave him pointed looks. Damian, who had been very quiet throughout the whole meal, piped up, “You cannot deny that you have a proclivity for taking in strays, Father.”

Interdimensional-Bruce just looked tired and Harley asked, “How many are there?”

Tony looked like he was in pain and cut in, “Apparently too many to name or count. I had FRIDAY run some simulations for fixing the portal device last night and it’s looking like it could take longer than a week to fix, if it can be fixed at all.”

The travellers all looked at each other, then Interdimensional-Bruce asked, “Do you think you can fix it?”

“I’d say there’s about a 60% chance of it working successfully.”

The travellers looked at each other again, apparently having some sort of silent conversation, and Tim stated, “I’ll help.”

Tony started to protest, but Tim gave him a look that sent chills down Peter’s spine and repeated, “I’ll help fix it.”

Tony scowled, but acquiesced, “Fine. But don’t get all butthurt if you can’t keep up with me.”

Dick gave a laugh that he quickly stifled and leaned over to Jason, whispering, “Try to keep Tim from ramming a screwdriver through Stark’s eye, would you? Something tells me that wouldn’t go over well.”

Jason leaned back, answering, “I’ll do my best to keep our little Nerd Bird from committing aggravated assault, but I make no promises. Stark challenged his nerdiness.”

Peter looked at Tim, who had a competitive gleam in his eyes, and Tim stated calmly, “I heard that, Dick. And I think we both know that’s more Jason’s style.”

Jason gave an offended noise and answered, “Rude. I’ve only done that once. And the guy deserved it, thinking he could sell to kids on my turf.”

Tim rolled his eyes, breaking the weird staring match he had going on with Tony, and teased, “Torinsky. And Pulinova. And that one guy with the missing pinky, what was his name?”

Jason rested his chin on Tim’s head, huffing, “Bianchi. And Torinsky was an icepick, not a screwdriver. Besides, Torinsky and Pulinova were trying to sell shit cut with cleaning supplies and Bianchi was trafficking kids. They had it coming.”

Tim looked mildly amused and stated, “I’m not saying they didn’t, only that ramming a screwdriver or similar item through a person’s eye is much more your style than it is mine.”

Tony looked startled and asked, “Uh, what? Who’s ramming a screwdriver through whose eye?”

Jason stole a blueberry from Tim’s plate, stating easily, “No one, hopefully. But fair warning, challenging Tim’s nerdiness is generally not a good idea. Riddler tried it and ended up stuck in one of his own stupid riddle things after Tim flirted him into locking himself in it.”

Tim swatted Jason’s hand away from his blueberries as Jason tried to get another one, arguing, “I did not flirt, you ass. How the Hell do you even know about that, anyway? That was like two weeks after you tried to kill me, before you decided that trying to get your wrists broken by stealing my blueberries was a better idea.”

Tim’s statement made the whole table fall quiet and Steve looked between Tim and Jason, asking incredulously, “What do you mean, after he tried to kill you?”

Jason winced and Tim rolled his eyes, stating flatly, “Oh please, it’s not a big deal. A slit throat and some broken bones never hurt anyone. Besides, you apologized _before_ trying to get in my pants, which is better than the other one who shall not be named but who is related by blood to one person at this table.”

The whole table stared in shock and Sam piped up, “Man, that is some seriously fucked logic.”

“As Jason put it when I asked him out, I am nothing but bad ideas and poor decisions compressed into a 138-pound body for your inconvenience. Anyway, if I were to reject every person in my age group who has ever injured or tried to kill me in a state of madness, I’d be down to about a dozen civilians, my sorta-stepbrother, don’t ask, or my teammates on the Titans, which isn’t gonna happen because they’re practically my siblings.”

Jason kissed Tim’s head and teased, “Shazam technically falls into your age group, being that you’re apparently 16 and all.”

Tim elbowed him in the gut and Peter piped up, “Um, that’s… That’s kinda messed up.”

Tim shrugged and stated, “Yep. Now, are we done going through my dating history? I’d rather stop this train before we get to the brick.”

“I, for one, would be quite willing to hear the story of how Brown broke your nose, Drake. I still hold that to be one of her greatest accomplishments.”

“Oh, shut it, Brat, or do I need to bring up the letter that your grandpa sent with the last penis fruit basket. You know, the one addressed to you?”

Damian looked disgusted and Dick cut in, scolding, “Knock it off, you two. Look, can we get to work on fixing the portal thing, please? I’d like to get home soon. Preferably before anyone gets arrested for assault.”

He gave Jason a pointed look and Jason complained, “Oh, come on! You get arrested for assaulting an alternate universe hero _one fucking time_ and you never hear the end of it! It wasn’t even an unprompted assault! The asshole had a gun pointed at me!”

Tony looked surprised and asked, “You’ve been in alternate universes before?”

Jason rolled his eyes, answering, “I spent six months doing a grand tour of them trying to keep the multiverse from collapsing in on itself. Long story.”

Peter looked at Harley, then stated, “You say that like that’s a normal thing.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and Dick commented, “Honestly? It’s not as uncommon as you might think. I mean, it’s certainly no ‘Riddler making puns’, but I’d say it probably ranks at maybe an ‘Arkham breakout’?”

Tim hummed thoughtfully, then answered, “Nah, probably closer to ‘Agent A going along with our harebrained schemes’. It happens and it’s not infrequent, but it’s not an everyday thing and it’s always an adventure when it happens. ‘Arkham breakout’ is like a monthly event, not anything too uncommon.”

Damian cut in at that, suggesting, “Perhaps ‘family members faking their death or coming back to life’ would be the most appropriate.”

Peter looked around the table, trying to figure out if anyone else knew what they were talking about, and found everyone else looking puzzled. Interdimensional-Bruce was staring at his plate, looking like he regretted his life choices, and Jason asked, “What do you think, old man?”

“I think we have better things to be doing than having this conversation.”

The tired tone reminded Peter distinctly of Tony when he and Harley tried to pull him into their pointless arguments. Jason rolled his eyes, scoffing, “Killjoy. Damn, your sense of humor must be deader than a Robin in a blown up warehouse.”

Tim swatted Jason lightly and asked, “What’s the rule, Jay?”

Jason looked chagrined and huffed, “No making jokes about my death at the table.”

They finished breakfast quickly, then Tony led them to the lab.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter was happily tinkering with his web-shooters and watching Tim and Tony puzzle over the transport device when he heard it. A man’s voice, with a slight tinniness and echo from multiple small speakers, purring, “Beloved, I know you can hear me.”  
  
Tim made a face and looked to Jason, who rolled his eyes and greeted, “You’ve reached 1-800-Go-Fuck-Yourself. Unfortunately, our representatives want nothing to do with you. Please go rot at the tone. Beep.”

The man’s voice scoffed, answering, “Todd. If you would put the Detective on, I have matters that I must discuss _privately_ with him.”

Tim gagged and Tony looked alarmed, then looked at Jason as Jason answered, “First of all, no. Fuck you. Second of all, you’re on an open channel. We can _all_ hear you.”

The man’s voice gave a laugh that made the hair on the back of Peter’s neck stand up and Tim announced, “Jay, I think I know who you should stab in the eye next.”

Tony looked between them and Tim pulled a small comm unit out of his ear, tossing it onto the ground and stomping on it. The unit was in pieces when he pulled his foot back and Jason stated easily, “Tim just crushed his comm unit. I’m guessing that means he doesn’t feel like talking with you, Raisin.”

The man spat something that Peter couldn’t understand and Jason rolled his eyes, giving a sign that Peter recognized as the word ‘crowbar’ in ASL before miming hitting himself. Tim snorted and stated, “Low blow, Jason.”

“You know what else was a low blow, Baby Bird?”

Tim shook his head and turned back to the portal device as Tony asked, “Where the Hell did you get comm units from?”

“Bruce.”

Tony opened his mouth, then apparently decided he didn’t care and turned his attention back to the device. Jason lounged on the stool he had been banished to after Tony failed to chase him out of the lab and looked over at Peter, asking, “So, how’d you get started as Spiderman, kid?”

Peter froze, the small screwdriver he was using slipping free of his grip and clattering to the floor, then squeaked, “How- How did you know?”

“Was that supposed to be a secret? I mean, it was process of elimination, man. Spiderman is obviously a kid, which narrowed it down to you and Harley, and you’ve got the same voice as Spiderman. Right height, build, and general personality, too. Not exactly a hard thing to guess. Besides, I’m a trained detective. We all are.”

Peter stared at him and Jason just shrugged like he hadn’t just revealed that he knew Peter’s secret identity, then suggested, “Might wanna see about gettin’ a voice modulator like we use. It helps prevent stuff like that from happening. I probably still would’ve figured it out, but it would’ve taken a hell of a lot longer without the voice to tip me off.”

Peter nodded, then slowly grabbed his screwdriver and asked, “You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?”

Jason raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, asking, “Who, pray tell, am I gonna tell? The rest of the family who I guarantee have already figured it out? The other superheros who already know?”

“They don’t know.”

Jason paused, studying Peter for a moment, then shrugged and answered, “Fair enough. Don’t worry, I won’t say a word. ‘S not my place to go around outing identities. You hear that, assholes?”

Peter looked at Jason, wondering who the hell he was addressing, then heard Dick’s voice answer, “Of course, Jay.”

Damian and Bruce added their agreement and Peter relaxed, then stated, “I got bitten by a radioactive spider, to answer your earlier question.”

“You did what now?”

Peter laughed awkwardly and set his web-shooter down, kicking his shoes off and climbing the wall to hang upside down from the ceiling as he repeated, “I got bitten by a radioactive spider. On a field trip. And then I developed powers.”

Jason blinked a few times, then stated, “Not gonna lie, that’s not one I’ve heard before. I’ve seen a lot of shit, but radioactive spiders are a new one for me.”

Peter dropped back to the floor and picked his tools back up, asking curiously, “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen?”

Jason looked thoughtful, then clarified, “Weirdest thing superhero-wise or just the weirdest thing overall?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Weirdest thing overall is definitely Bruce’s Brucie persona. It’s where he pretends to be a… what’s the word? A himbo? I think that’s what Steph and Tim call him. But yeah, he acts like an idiot with no thoughts beyond sex and alcohol. It’s hella creepy. Weirdest superhero thing would be… Hmm. I don’t know. There’s so much bizarre shit. Oh, alright, here’s one I ran into a few years back: A sentient street named Danny. He can appear anywhere he wants, whenever he wants, and does so to give people a place to rest. He decided to pop up in Gotham for whatever reason, right in the Bowery, my territory, and hung around for a few weeks before moving on.”

Peter stared at Jason incredulously and Jason smirked, continuing, “And then there’s this one villain in Gotham, calls himself Condiment King, who uses ketchup and mustard as his weapons.”

Tim looked over at that and stated flatly, “Fuck that guy. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the smell of mustard out of spandex?”

Jason snickered and carried on, “There’s the dude who thinks he’s actually Zeus. He’s not, but he thinks he is. There’s Clayface, who is essentially made of clay and can shapeshift. Manbat, the giant humanoid bat who wants to murder people. Uh, who else? Oh, Killer Croc, he’s a giant man-eating human-crocodile mutant who lives in the sewers and no, I’m not kidding. We do actually have a giant human-crocodile mutant living in our sewers. There’s a ton more, Gotham is wild.”

Peter blinked, taking a moment to process, then asked, “Wait, what’s Gotham? Is that a state? A country? Does it exist in this universe?”

“It’s a city. Roughly the size of New York, maybe a little smaller. We’re pretty sure it doesn’t exist here. And lemme tell you somethin’ kid, it’s fuckin’ insane. Ask anyone from our universe about Gotham and they’ll tell you that it is a hellscape of gargoyles and supervillains in which a guy dressed as a bat punching criminals is just a normal occurrence at this point. People don’t even question it anymore, it’s just ‘Oh yeah, I saw Batman kick a rapist’s teeth in on my way home from the park. Robin asked if he could pet my dog.’ No one blinks an eye. I’m the only one who still gets suspicious looks and, admittedly, that’s on me for delivering a duffel bag of severed heads to the police station and then firing a bazooka into a mob boss’s office.”

Tony looked up at that, practically shouting, “You did _what_?”

Jason winced and answered, “I, uh, decapitated some mobsters and delivered their heads to the police station before firing a bazooka into a mob boss’s office? In my defense, I was fresh out of a murder cult, still under the influence of the Pit, and 7 different kinds of fucked in the head. I haven’t killed anyone in at least six months and the last guy was selling child sex slaves.”

“Pulinova.”

Jason made a face at Tim, who was still working on the device, and shot back, “Pulinova survived. Technically. He still has a heartbeat.”

Tim gave a wave of his hands like ‘semantics’ and answered, “I’m pretty sure that being in a coma with a less-than-1% chance of waking up counts as close enough.”

Tony was looking between Tim and Jason and Tim looked up at him, scoffing, “Oh, don’t act like you’ve never killed anyone. I looked into you.”

Tony scowled and Tim traded screwdrivers, fiddling with the device as Tony asked, “How?”

Tim turned to look at Jason, who was smirking, then shrugged and answered, “Easily accessible vents with access to practically everywhere in the building is a huge security risk. Also, let Ms. Potts know that her fern needs some water. It was looking a bit dehydrated.”

Tony looked like he had just been slapped, then asked, “You went sneaking around my Tower and broke into Pepper’s office?”

Tim shrugged and switched tools again, then jolted back when the device made a loud beeping noise as he fiddled. Jason leapt forward, pulling Tim and Tony back and putting himself between them and the device. The lab went completely silent for several seconds, then Jason asked, “Tim, what did you do?”

Tim held up his screwdriver and answered, “I was adjusting the capacitor terminals so they lined up properly. I had just gotten them lined up.”

Jason took the magnifying glasses Tim was wearing and slid them on, then stated, “If this thing explodes and kills me again, donate all my books to the local library. And punch Bruce in the face for me.”

Tim apparently didn’t appreciate the joke very much and snapped, “If this thing explodes and you die, I’m gonna dump your ass in the Lazarus Pit to bring you back so that I can kill you again for being such a fucking moron.”

Jason ignored him and examined the device for a few moments, then stated, “I could be wrong, but I think this thing might be working again.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for how long this took. I'm just like this as a person. Yes, I'm disappointed in me too.

It took five minutes for the rest of the interdimensional travelers to arrive in Tony’s lab. Bat-Bruce looked over Jason’s shoulder and Dick crowded up against his other shoulder as Tony grumbled about people in his lab. Dick set his chin on Jason’s shoulder, apparently prompting Jason to elbow Bat-Bruce in the stomach. Bat-Bruce gave a grunt of pain and, not sounding apologetic in the least, Jason stated, “Sorry, that was meant for Dick.”

Bat-Bruce gave Jason a Look and Dick pouted dramatically, whining, “You’re so mean to me, Jay!”

Jason rolled his eyes and elbowed Dick in the stomach, then rolled his shoulders and took off the magnifying glasses he had stolen from Tim, setting them down on the counter. Stark stepped forward, leaning down to examine the device, and Tim stepped in, putting on the magnifying glasses and leaning in. The lab door opened and Tony scowled, turning to look at who was interrupting him. Pepper raised an eyebrow at him from the doorway, then stated, “Lunch.”

As if on cue, Dick’s stomach rumbled and he blushed as Pepper walked away. Tony rolled his eyes and shooed the travelers out of his lab, stating, “We can work on it after we eat. Trust me, you don’t want Pepper to have to come back to get us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lunch went quickly, but before they could head back to the lab, Steve suggested, “We should spar. I’m curious about your fighting capabilities.”

Jason lit up at the mention of fighting and Tim gave a snort of laughter, answering, “Oh, this’ll be good.”

“Hush, Baby Bird. You’re on.”

Steve nodded and the group relocated to the gym, where Steve retrieved his shield and gestured to the wall of weapons, stating, “You can choose your weapon from there.”

Jason smirked and answered, “Don’t need one.”

Steve raised a doubtful eyebrow and stated, “You’re strong, but even I fight with a weapon.”

Dick gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and a slow, dangerous grin spread across Jason’s face as he answered, “Aww, how cute that you think I won’t put my fist straight through a man’s chest and rip his heart out with my bare hands. You think I need  _ weapons _ , jackass? I  _ am _ a weapon.”

The air in the gym was choked with tension and Steve felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Then Tim snickered and asked, “Did you seriously just quote that stupid fucking movie?”

The tension disappeared in an instant as Jason turned to look at Tim, arguing, “Super Spies is a classic and should be respected, Timothy!”

Tim looked at Jason with a distinctly judgemental look and answered, “It’s garbage, Jason. That movie is absolute garbage.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t. Just because it’s garbage doesn’t mean it isn’t a classic! But now isn’t the time to discuss it.”

Tim rolled his eyes and Steve cleared his throat, asking, “Uh, are you ready?”

Jason stuck his tongue out at Tim and answered, “Yep. Let’s dance.”

“You’re a terrible dancer, Jay.”

Jason rounded on Tim and Tim raised an eyebrow challengingly before Jason pointed at him and ordered, “Get over here, Drake. I’m gonna kick your skinny little ass.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Why, cause you’re injured? Fine, I’ll kick it gently.”

Tim snorted and made his way over to Jason, running his hands over Jason’s chest and leaning in close enough for their lips to almost touch. Then his leg was coming up to knock Jason’s legs from under him and Jason was toppling backwards, ending up on the floor with Tim sitting on his stomach with a smug look as he stated, “You won’t kick my ass because I’ll kick yours first.”

The silence was broken by Dick’s muffled giggles and Damian mocking, “How pathetic must you be, Todd, to be taken down by an injured  _ Drake? _ I thought you were better than that.”

Tim raised one eyebrow at Damian and asked, “Are you forgetting that I’ve also kicked your ass, Demon Brat?”

Damian flushed angrily, but shut his mouth sulkily as Tim got up off of Jason. 

“Very impressive, Tim.”

Steve jumped at Natasha’s voice from behind him, but Tim didn’t bat an eye, answering, “Thanks. It wasn’t particularly hard, Jason’s a sucker for a pretty face.”

“Only if it’s yours, Baby Bird.”

Tim rolled his eyes and hauled Jason to his feet, then stated, “Now that we’re done with the foreplay, there’s someone still waiting to spar with you.”

Jason pressed a kiss to Tim’s lips, then rounded on Steve and took a ready stance, beckoning him. Steve and Jason studied each other for a moment, then Steve made the first move, feinting a punch at Jason’s face and using his leg to try to swipe Jason’s feet out from under him. To his surprise, Jason managed to duck his punch and avoid Steve’s leg, setting Steve off balance before Jason rammed his shoulder into Steve’s chest. Steve toppled backwards, just barely catching himself, and Jason grinned wickedly, grabbing Steve’s wrist and jerking him back up. As he pulled Steve in, he moved, twisting Steve’s arm behind his back and forcing him to his knees with a well-placed kick. Steve tapped out after a moment and Jason released him, stepping back and asking, slightly incredulously, “How much do you rely on being the strongest person in the room, dude?”

Steve felt his cheeks heat up as he stood and Natasha snickered, stating, “Far too much, unfortunately.”

Jason turned to study Natasha, then, seemingly out of nowhere, turned to Tim and asked, “You see the resemblance, right?”

Tim raised an eyebrow, but studied Natasha for a long moment before answering, “To Shiva or to Talia?”

Jason made a face at the mention of this ‘Talia’ person and replied, “I meant Shiva, but now I’ll never be able to not see Talia when I look at her. Thanks, Baby Bird.”

Damian turned to look at Natasha as well and, after a moment, observed, “Her stance does bear a striking resemblance to Mother’s.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow and Dick coughed slightly, like he was hiding a laugh, before explaining, “You hold yourself like a couple of assassins we know. Uh, Lady Shiva and Talia al Ghul, specifically.”

Natasha’s brow rose higher and Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times before asking, “Why do you know assassins?”

Dick winced at the question, but answered, “Well, uh, Jason ended up training with Talia and her family’s murder cult for awhile, Damian is Talia’s son, and Tim…”

Dick looked genuinely pained at whatever Tim’s connection was and Tim rolled his eyes, spitting disgustedly, “Talia’s father wants to marry me, despite being nearly a thousand years older than me, and won’t take a hint that I’m not interested. Also, I worked with the League of Assassins for a bit to drag Bruce’s dumb ass out of the time stream. It was an…  _ experience _ .”

Tony cleared his throat, then asked, “Let me get this straight. You have a murder cult zombie, the son of a murder cult member, and a kid who’s being stalked by a different murder cult member, but you’re not actually a part of the murder cult?”

Damian puffed up angrily at that and Jason looked thoughtful, cutting off whatever Damian was about to say as he observed, “Well,  _ technically _ , I think we’re at… three murder cult zombies? B, would you count as a murder cult zombie? I mean, you trained with the League and we thought you were dead for a while there, even though you weren’t.”

Tim hummed, then pointed out, “If B counts, then so would I, since you guys also thought I was dead for a bit and I was  _ actually _ working with the League at that time. We could say two official murder cult zombies and two honorary murder cult zombies? Where do Steph and Dick fit in? They were both considered dead for a while, but they weren’t involved with the League during that. Or really at all, now that I think about it? Would Cass be considered an honorary murder cult zombie? She hasn’t died or faked her death yet, but no one can argue that she wasn’t a murder cult member.”

He fell quiet, seemingly mulling it over, and Jason looked thoughtful, then turned to Damian and asked, “Thoughts, fellow official murder cult zombie?”

Damian rolled his eyes, then answered, “Not on your life, Todd. I refuse to be lumped in with  _ you _ .”

Jason laughed at that and Steve, feeling slightly sick to his stomach at the implication, asked, “You’ve… died?”

Damian tutted, then answered, “A temporary inconvenience.”

Sam looked at the four boys, who had begun debating amongst each other about who fell into what category and quickly dissolved into arguing about something he couldn’t even begin to parse, then looked at Bat-Bruce, who was staring blankly into the middle distance with the same exhausted Dad-Look that Tony got sometimes when Harley and Peter started being dumb. Finally, sounding like he regretted his entire existence and all of his life choices, Bat-Bruce interrupted, “Boys. That’s enough.”

The four turned to look at him in eerie unison, then Jason answered, “Eat shit, Bruce.”

Then the four turned back their argument and Bat-Bruce looked slightly more dead inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, as the sun began setting, the whole group of Avengers and interdimensional travellers all trooped back up to the lab, ignoring Tony’s grumbles about people in his lab, and, after some more fiddling with the interdimensional transport device, the travellers used it to send themselves home. The lab fell silent and, after a few moments, Clint asked, “I’m not the only one who thought they were completely insane, right?”

The silence was broken by a clamor of agreement and Tony finally shooed the group out of his lab before turning his attention to the device and considering it. Surely the interdimensional travellers were kidding about how utterly insane their world was, right?

Only one way to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! It's done! There might be a sequel, but it may be awhile before that gets written/posted, depending on how the writing goblin is feeling.


End file.
